


This Is Me

by LeggoxMyxGreggo



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief Din Djarin/Fennec Shand, Dom/sub, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggoxMyxGreggo/pseuds/LeggoxMyxGreggo
Summary: Din just needs to get out of his head. Fennec knows a guy.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 73
Kudos: 463





	1. Chapter 1

“Din.” 

Din blinks as a gloved hand slips under his chin, lifting his head to meet the woman’s gaze. He shifts his weight and tilts his head into the hand that cards through his hair, eyes drifting closed before a sharp pull makes him hiss and open his eyes. Fennec’s sharp eyes look into his, her hand a tight fist in his hair keeping him still. Every time his eyes slipped away to look anywhere but directly at her a sharp tug to his hair has him quickly refocusing on her face. 

A gloved hand cups his cheek and he twitches away before the slap even lands. Fennec grabs his jaw and studies him before sighing and releasing him. She stretches as she stands, turning her back to him. Her hands fall to her hips, “I can’t keep doing this with you.” 

“What,” he swallows, wincing at the volume of his voice after being quiet for long. Din presses his hands to the floor, pushing himself up to stand, making himself Fennec’s equal once more. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

Fennec rolls her eyes and sits on her couch, crossing a leg over the other and motioning for Din to sit beside her. The use of his name had been enough to tell Din she was ending the scene, her allowing him onto the couch beside her further confirming this. Din takes the offered seat.

“Because,” she starts, “I’m not what you need.”

“Fennec-“ 

Fennec holds up a hand to silence him before continuing, “No. I’m calling this whole thing off. We had an agreement.” Din sighs quietly and rubs a hand over his face but nods with her. This whole thing had started weeks ago, just something to get them both out of their head. Fennec was a friend, the knowledge that she was a domme professionally had never bothered him and she had even refused payment from him outright since they had started this whole thing. She had told him right off the bat she wasn’t what he needed but he had pushed to still try, and she agreed under the condition that either of them could call it off if, no questions asked.

He nods slowly and leans into the back of the couch, resting his cheek against it as he faced Fennec beside him. “Okay.” Din can’t say that he’s not disappointed. 

“I know you don’t want to go out to bars or any functions that I’ve sent you.” Din rolls his eyes as she talks, laughing when her hand stings against his cheek. This was her messing with him, he’s aware, and he grins at her when she settles back. “But,” Fennec snaps her fingers at him, “I know someone who you should talk to.”

When Fennec reaches behind her to grab a sticky note with a number and a single word, ‘Boba’, scribbled in her neat scrawl. Din takes the paper, realizing she had been thinking about this, the paper already ready for him.

Before he can say anything, Fennec continues talking, “He’s not really in the business anymore.”

“I can’t just call some random-“

“He’s not some random person.” Fennec interrupts him again. “His name is Boba and he’s an acquaintance of mine, you’ll get along with him.”

“Okay,” Din agrees, ready to leave the conversation as well as the room, ready to get home and lay down for the next two hours that his son is with the babysitter. He stands up, grabbing his shirt from the arm of the couch and pulling it over his head as he makes his way to the front door. “I’ll see you later, Fennec.”

“I’ll let Boba know to expect your call,” she calls out to him, now a room away.

Din tugs his shoes on and shakes his head despite knowing she can’t see him. “Please don’t!”

Fennec’s laugh and her reply of, “too late” is cut off by the door closing behind him. Friend or not, the woman could be a menace. 

He gets home with an hour and thirty minutes left to spare and decides to collapse onto the couch instead of his bed, tugging his son's blanket up from the floor to cover his arms, and forgets about the day and Fennec’s ‘friend’.

Din forgets about Fennec’s friend for another three weeks until he stumbles across the sticky note crumpled in his pocket. He unfolds the paper, studying the neat writing. He talks himself into and out of calling the number three times before he manages to press call. The phone rings twice before a rough voice answers with a simple, “hello.”

He almost hangs up, but his mouth betrays him before he can really weigh the option. “Hi, um.” Din winces. “I’m calling for..Boba? My name is Din, I was given this number by Fennec?”

There’s silence on the other end of the line as Din embarrasses himself. He almost asks if he’s got the wrong number. 

“Fennec said you would take your time to call,” the voice, Boba, sounds amused. There’s the sound of the phone moving before the man chuckles. “I wasn’t expecting it to take three weeks.”

“Sorry,” Din offers, wondering just how long Fennec had told the man he would take.

Boba’s laugh is soft. “Nothing to apologize for. Did Fennec tell you about me?”

Din shakes his head before remembering the other man couldn’t see him. “No, not really. Just your name and that you’re not really in the business anymore.“ It’s a fight not to make his words sound like a question.

The man on the line hums. “You are aware of what business she’s talking about?”

“I am assuming the same as her?”

“Humor me, can you tell me what profession that is?” The man’s voice still sounds amused but not in a way that Din feels he is mocking him. 

“Professional dominatrix?” Din can’t help asking, unsure the terminology that Fennec preferred.

There’s that hum again and then, “thank you.” It’s not the words themselves but the way he says it that gives Din pause. A loud knock on the door makes Din jump, interrupting his thoughts on Boba's voice and just the way that simple 'thank you' made him feel. The muffled voice on the other side was distinctly Peli and likely complaining about him ‘pawning’ his child off on her as though she didn’t take the toddler right off of the living room floor while telling Din to ‘get to work’ and leaving before he could even argue just as she did every morning. Din can’t help the quiet sigh and closes his eyes for a moment needing to prepare himself for Peli’s…Peli. 

“I…” Din sighs again, “I need to go.” Peli had already given up knocking. It was only a matter of time before she uses the toddler in her arms to reach the key above his doorway. 

“I understand. Will you be following up soon?” The tone was teasing and Din wonders what the man looks like, what his smile would look like. Then Din realizes what he had said and can't help a surprised laugh. Fennec had said she'd told Boba to expect his call. That had been nearly a month ago, it makes sense that he would want to make sure that it wouldn't be another month before he called again. 

Responding with a soft, “please,” he walks to the door, “Um, yes, yea, I'll follow up soon. Have a good night.” He hangs up quickly now that he had started rambling and embarrassing himself. “Peli, I know you have your own key,” Din calls through the door as he unlocks it, tugging it open to reveal the frazzled landlady and child. Grogu reaches for him and he meets him halfway to scoop him from Peli’s hold. “Thank you, have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow when you steal my kid from my own living room again, good night.” 

Peli doesn’t argue or try to interrupt him, just takes the money he hands her for watching Grogu and smacks his arm hard enough to hurt. “I’ll see you tomorrow, you terrible excuse for a tenant.” The familiar insult holds no heat and Peli is kind enough to lock the door behind her when she leaves. 

Din checks the door out of habit and finally looks down at the boy in his arms, “dinner, then?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Your friend finally called.” Boba says in lieu of a greeting when Fennec opens the door. He locks the door behind himself as he follows her in, pausing only briefly to remove his shoes. She had tried for months to get him to just leave them on, making an exception to her house rules for him but he refused to listen until she learned to just drop it. Sometimes when he stumbled, she would make a point of letting him know that she would not be helping him off the floor, a threat that she failed to actually act on the few times his balance went to shit.

Fennec’s voice rises from the kitchen as Boba straightens, “I told you he would take some time to call.” He doesn’t reply until he’s settled down on her couch, watching her shadow dance across the doorway as she moves around the kitchen.

“’Some time’ usually means a few days,” Boba takes the offered cup of coffee as Fennec joins him in the living room. “It does not mean over three weeks.”

“It’ll be better if you forget time exists where Din is involved. He loses track of it regularly, it’s a wonder he makes his court dates.”

That catches his attention. “Court? What kind of person are you giving my number out to these days?”

“It’s not for him.” Fennec waves her hand at him. “He’s got a son. I don’t know the whole story but he’s fighting pretty hard to keep custody.” She shoots Boba a look, “Who do you think I am letting into my home?”

Boba grins into his mug. “Well, you let me in often enough.” The joke gets him an amused snort. They had known each other for years now, had served together briefly overseas before crossing paths once more in a veterans affairs office a small town over. They had leaned on each other during some dark times and even though they did better now and no longer shared an apartment, she was still one of his closest friends. One of his only friends. Fennec’s knee leaned against his own and he reached down to pat it softly. "Do you think he'll call again?"

Fennec doesn't hesitate before nodding. "He will or you could just-"

"No, let him reach out to me." Boba pauses, looking to Fennec and studying her face. She didn't even try to hide her self-satisfied smile. "You already messaged him," he accuses as she very pointedly scrolls through her phone. He reaches over to swipe his fingers over the screen, the page she was reading flying up the screen. 

"Want to see his picture?"

Boba rolls his eyes, head falling to the back of the couch. "Stop it." He shoves her hand away as she holds the phone over his face, "stop meddlin-if you drop that on my face..." He let the threat hang between them, a hand wrapped around her wrist to push the phone away from him. 

"Look, he texted back." He let's Fennec tug her hand out of his grip to check the message that popped up. She turns the screen to him again and he narrows his eyes at her before sighing and looking down at the message. The message consists of a short line of emojis; three eye rolls and one fingers crossed with the short message 'yes, promise'. In the one short message, Din had conveyed Boba's same opinions of Fennec's meddling. 

"Great," Boba laughs, "maybe it'll be one week instead of three." He grabs the phone from Fennec's hand, pressing the power button as he pulls it away and slides his thumb across the power slide, shutting it off before she can message Din back and stir the pot more. 

"Boba." Were he anyone else, the low threat of her voice may have been something to fear. 

He merely smiles and drops the phone into her lap. "Yes, dear?" The comment earns him a soft swat to the chest. 

Boba receives a text from Din before another phone call. He wonders if Fennec had messaged him to call again after Boba's visit the other day. The message was simple; 'This is Din. Do you have time to talk?' The formality of it was endearing.

Fennec had tried to tell him more about Din but he had pointedly, through the threat of cutting their afternoon short, requested that she didn't. He wanted to meet Din and learn to understand him in Din's comfort zone without opinions that weren't wholly his own. Though it was still early to think what the future may hold or what standard he would need to set his expectations to. That was if he chose to take Din in and if Din chose him.

Boba forgoes telling Din he would make time for him. Din seemed the type that would feel that he was imposing on Boba if he made that comment. Instead, he settles for 'when you're available' and waits. He doesn't have to wait long before Din's name lit up his phone. 

"Good morning, Din."

There's a pause before Din responds with his own, "good morning."

The hesitation doesn't seem born of nervousness like their last conversation. "That sounded almost like a question. Not a good morning?" He tries, wanting to hear more from Din, to get him talking. 

"Oh, sorry, no. I wasn't expecting you to answer so quickly." The candid responses makes Boba chuckle.

"Unlike Fennec, I do not text and then toss my phone aside."

The joke gets a warm laugh from Din. Much like his voice, the sound was soft. Boba wants to hear more of both.

"Yeah. She seems to do that a lot. Glad to know it's not personal."

"Maybe not for you." The teasing jab makes Din laugh again. He sounded more relaxed today, less harried and rushed than their last conversation. 

Din takes a deep breath, pauses, then speaks again. "I'm not really sure how to have this conversation," he admits.

Boba appreciates the honesty. So many others would just make idle chat and wait for him to broach the subject. It's a nice change. 

"Well," Boba pauses, he hates to have this conversation over the phone, prefers to see the other person. "Are you busy this afternoon?"

"No. I-" Din makes a small sound, seems to think better of what he was going to say. "No."

"Okay." Boba smiles, hearing some of that nervousness creeping into Din's tone. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Where were you thinking?"


	3. Chapter 3

They had agreed on a coffee shop that Din had seen in passing before but not had a chance to step into before now. He didn't have much time to stop anywhere that didn't have a drive-through most days. Any other day he just didn't have the energy.

His most recent visit to court had concluded with him finally being granted full custody. Though he doubted that Gideon would take that decision laying down, it was something Din was willing to put off worrying too much over for the time being. It was enough right now that he didn't have to worry about every other weekend or supervised time whenever Gideon actually remembered that he was trying to prove to the system that he deserved full custody instead of Din. It was at least one thing off his plate for now.

Add on the fact that work had slowed down, that they finally had enough people in the office that Din was able to step away for more than three-hour increments at a time, that Din wasn't taking hours worth of work home with him every day. The time he had spent with Fennec those weeks ago had been short scenes, squeezed between the time he had between work and home or the sacrifice of precious hours for sleep just for the chance to let go of everything. Now that he wasn’t taking work home, wasn’t living partially out of his car, Din found himself suddenly with more hours in the day than he knew what to do with. 

Grogu was ecstatic that he was spending more time with Din than Peli or the babysitter, but he was still a toddler and despite the energy he maintained throughout the day to cause toddler mayhem on anyone within proximity of his pelting distance, the child could sleep. While Din slept in short increments, constantly fighting against insomnia and the warring anxieties that often kept him awake, Grogu contentedly slept until morning. Din was not jealous of the child. He was a little jealous of the child. 

There were odd hours now that Din really didn’t know what to do with and the few times he’s reached out to Fennec, knowing for a fact she was already awake as well, was met with genuine conversation as much as it was met with her meddling. Those odd hours didn’t just occur in the early mornings. Din found himself drifting in the time between getting home from work until Peli returned with Grogu from some errand that she had had to run. A month ago, Fennec would have told him to come over. Now, she’s just as likely to respond with what he’s quickly learned to be Boba’s number or a link to a VA therapy page. 

The warmth of the coffee shop is a shock to his chilled fingers and cheeks. It wasn’t cold enough for snow yet, but the icy wind carried the threat of it, chilling every bit of skin that it came into contact with. Din blows into his cupped hands, scanning the room quickly as he stepped into line to order, eyes coming to rest on the man making his way over from a table at the back of the room. Din first notices the scars and then dark eyes, the man’s features softening with a warm smile as he approaches and Din smiles softly in response. “Boba?” 

Boba nods, holding a handout for Din to shake. “Good to put a face to the voice.” Once more, Boba’s voice strikes him dumb and he nods, taking the offered hand. The man’s grip is sure and warm against his cold hand and he almost doesn’t want to pull away as the warmth slowly bleeds into his fingertips. The other man seems to catch on, covering the back of Din’s hand with his other hand and rubbing softly. “What’s your poison?” 

“Latte, usually.” Din follows Boba’s line of sight to the board behind the counter, his hand still in Boba’s grasp. 

“A latte usually.” The man parrots, amused. Just like their first conversation, Din doesn’t feel that he’s being mocked. He looks to Boba briefly to check, comforted by the soft smile he sees. Not mocking him then. 

Din’s hand is released, and Boba nudges his elbow with an with an open hand. Without thinking, he reaches over with his left hand. It’s apparently the right move as his hand is held between rough warm palms. “Hazelnut,” he clarifies. Boba hums in response, rubbing Din’s fingers a little before stepping up to the counter to order, making it clear that he was intent on paying. “Boba,” he tries and is stalled with a hand held up to him in the universal sign of ‘don’t interrupt’, making the young barista behind the register laugh as Din felt his cheeks warm. 

Order placed, Boba motions toward the table he had been sitting at previously. It was toward the back of the small shop, placed in the corner so that two people could sit with their back to a wall and see the entirety of the room while still allowing them the space to sit on their own side of the table. It’s something Din would have done and has done on multiple occasions. He doubts the coffee shop had done it on purpose and wonders if Boba had moved it himself. Din takes a seat as Boba slides into the seat to his right, putting a wall to both of their backs. 

Din removes his scarf in an attempt to quell his fidgeting with it, setting it on the corner of the table beside him. Outside of his jacket, it had been the only thing he could find to protect him from the cold. At one point he’d had a hat and gloves, a set bought for him by Cara before things started to ice over, but they’d gotten misplaced somewhere between the apartment and the office, he’s pretty sure at least one glove was in Grogu’s toy kitchen somewhere, probably the microwave or the stove as those were the toddler’s current favorite places to hide things. Din rubs his hands together, less from the cold now than it was to just dispel some nervous energy.

“How much did Fennec pester you for you to call before another three weeks passed?” 

Din looks to Boba as he asks the question and laughs quietly. “I would have to check. At least once a day? Though,” Din pauses and shrugs, “it wasn’t so much pestering as it was um…a very specific response to my texts?” 

Boba raises a brow at that, settling into his seat with a soft, “oh?”

He thinks of the number of times she sent her saved contact for Boba instead of an actual reply to his texts and decides to go with, “she’s persistent,” instead of admitting to just how long he had been actively putting off reaching out again. 

“That she is.” Boba doesn’t push and Din wonders if it’s because he knew how Fennec could be or if it was because the barista had picked that moment to bring their drinks to the table. Din’s thankful either way. He wraps his hands around the mug passed to him, enjoying the warmth it provided as he watches Boba take a drink from his own, laughing quietly when the man winces at the hot liquid. “Yea,” Boba’s raspy chuckle joins Din’s own soft laugh, “I deserved that.” 

He doesn’t try to take a sip of his own, instead choosing to continue using his coffee as an expensive hand warmer until it cooled enough to drink. 

“So, Fennec gave you my number for a reason,” Boba pauses and seems to check that Din is listening before continuing, “I need to know what that reason is for you.”

This was the part of the conversation Din hated, having to bare his wants to another person. He’s suddenly hyperaware of the fact that Boba had chose a space far from the commotion of the café for a reason more than just hypervigilance, it could almost feel private. “Fennec said that she wasn’t what I needed...I’m not really sure what it is that she had meant. I don’t really know what I need.”

Boba makes a low sound and nods slowly. “Okay, then let’s forget what you need for now, we’ll work on that later. What do you want? Either from me or from this...exchange?” 

Din bites his lip, teeth pulling at a piece of dry skin nervously. “It’s…” He watches the steam rise from Boba’s mug as he pauses.

“Din.” Boba ducks his head to catch Din’s eye and he quickly meets his gaze. “I am the last person to judge you, what ever it is. What ever you say to me, anything we do, it stays between us.” The promise makes some of the nervousness melt away.

“It’s like I can’t shut off, I’m tired but my mind continues to run.” Din rubs the side of his thumb over his bottom lip, wincing at the now tender skin, “I just want some time where I’m not the one running things, to let go and know…” he sighs. 

A calloused hand covers Din’s, tugging gently to pull his thumb away from the abused skin of his lip. “To let go and know that someone else will take care of you?” Boba asks so sincerely that Din can’t help nodding, thankful once again that he was being understood by the other man even if he felt that he was so in the dark about his own wants and needs. “I think that is something we can work out,” Boba’s thumb rubs along the back of Din’s hand, tapping against his knuckles lightly. “But,” that catches Din’s attention again and he looks up from their joined hands on the table as Boba continues, “there is something I will need you to do for me first.”

Din nods, curiosity peaked as Boba reaches for a messenger bag that he hadn’t realized was hanging on Boba’s chair. He slips his hand from Boba’s to take the offered packet of papers, glancing through them quickly as Boba spoke, “I could send it to you in an email, but I personally prefer a hard copy.” Hooking his fingers over the top of the packet, Boba tugs it down until Din laid it on the table between them, “I want you to read through this before we meet again. Any rules I have written are open to discussion, these are a basic idea, we will change them to suit our needs.” 

When Boba says ‘our’, Din looks up, searching his face. His confusion must have been written clearly over his face as Boba elaborates, “you will be my partner in this and though you may submit to me, you will be treated fairly. These rules aren’t made for you to fail and what may have worked for someone else may not be what you need.”

Din swallows and nods, feeling his cheeks warm at how easily Boba had been able to read him. “Thank you...for um...” Din motions to the papers between them and sighs, looking back to Boba with the hope that he understood what he was trying to say. 

“You don’t have to thank me for decency.” Boba flips a few pages over, “but you’re welcome.” He taps a finger on the new page, drawing Din’s attention back to the paper and to the kinks and fetishes listed on the page. “This isn’t an exhaustive list, but I need to know your limits and what you like. You can make notes anywhere you like if you need to or just want to.” He waits for Din to nod before closing the packet to the inconspicuous blank front page and slides it back to Din. 

“Seems...simple enough.” Din sets the packet under his scarf to make sure that he remembers to grab it when they part ways.

“Simple enough but if you have any questions you can text me or call me.” Boba raps his knuckles lightly on the table between them to draw Din’s attention back to him again. “I mean it.”

Din nods again, feeling almost like that’s all he knows how to do around the other man. “I will call or text if I have any questions...promise.”

The ‘promise’ tagged at the end of his sentence gets a smile and a low chuckle from Boba. “Or if you just need to talk.”

Once again Din feels as though he is brought up short and he pauses, “you’re sure?” The question is out of his mouth before he can help it and were Boba not right in front of him, he’d put his head in his hands in embarrassment. 

Boba doesn’t laugh at him, instead reaching out and grabbing Din’s shoulder gently. “I mean it. You need to talk or just want to; you can call me. If you’re worried about waking me, send me a text.” The hand doesn’t leave his shoulder even as Din chokes out a quiet, ‘thank you’. Instead, Boba’s hand rubs over his shoulder before squeezing. “You don’t have to thank me for decency, Din.”


	4. Chapter 4

Boba is surprised to get a call early the next morning from a very harried sounding Din who quickly apologizes. There’s raised voices in the background that Boba imagines has something to do with Din’s tone. “It’s fine,” He quickly reassures him, checking the time and wincing at the 0201 that shines back at him. “Everything okay?”

“I’m sorry.” Din’s voice is softer, most likely realizing the time it was. “I selected the wrong number...you ah...answered before I could hang up.”

He hums quietly. “It’s okay,” he reassures again. The voices raise in the back again and Boba winces at the volume even as he hears Din quickly leaving the situation. “Din, what time do you work?”

There’s a pause and the sound of the door shutting, nearly silencing the argument. “That’s a very good question.” The way he says it tells Boba he’s not going to like any answer Din gives him. “I’m sorry again for waking you…can I call later tonight?”

Boba rubs a hand over his face and looks up at the clock, contemplating the glowing numbers. “I’ll talk to you tonight, after you’ve gotten a few hours of sleep.” He doesn’t believe the echoing agreement from Din, making a small sound that Din seems to pick up on.

“After a few hours of sleep,” Din echoes again, pausing before adding, “I promise. Goodnight, Boba.” He hangs up only after Boba says a soft, “goodnight, Din,” in response. 

He looks at the phone in his hand before dropping it somewhere above his head. “What the hell have I gotten into?” 

The day passes smoothly after Din’s early call. The time he spends waiting for his appointment at the medical center across town is spent thinking about the other man, trying to fit Fennec’s throw away comments about Din to the man he met at the coffee shop. Where Fennec had considered Din to be forgetful, Boba found that he seemed more distracted and prone to getting lost in thought. Din was thoughtful about the questions Boba asked, taking his time to collect his thoughts before answering though there were moments that Boba could tell that Din was carefully contemplating a way to make an answer more palatable. Much like the way Din had redirected his question about his work hours. 

Boba resolves to ask Din about it again the next time they speak. Their meeting at the coffee shop hadn’t ended after he had given Din the papers to look over and notate, instead they had stayed another few hours until Din had excused himself to get to work. The times didn’t add up and it wasn’t that Boba didn’t believe Din but that he did believe him and already Boba worrying that Din was overworking himself. 

The doctor doesn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know; there was nerve damage within the more extensive scarring, his balance was still shot, and no, they didn’t know what injury could explain the loss of feeling through his leg, but he was lucky to have made it through everything with both life and limb. He hates when they make the last comment the most but pushes down the urge to punch the civilian doctor who says it, using the uncomfortable silence it creates to make his point as he left. It had been years now since he had started this whole dog and pony show, he knew the drill. Schedule another appointment for another six months out; rinse, repeat.

Din’s call doesn’t come in until Boba is already back home which he’s thankful for as the anger he felt at the VA and the inner-city traffic had simmered down. He refused to take his anger out on those that didn’t deserve it and Din was already so skittish. Boba checks the time and answers with a “good evening, Din” as he sets the oven timer for seventy-five minutes. 

“Good evening. Is this a bad time?”

Boba smiles at Din’s concern. “Not at all. I just got home a bit ago, you’ve called at the perfect time, actually.”

“Oh, good,” Din seems to settle at that, sighing quietly. 

“Hm..Din?” There’s a brief pause before Din’s responding ‘yes?’ prompts him to continue. “What is your work schedule.”

The sigh he receives for that question is much less relaxed than the last one. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear it. “I don’t know anymore.” Din’s voice almost sounds defeated, Boba wonders if it’s directed at him or the job. “It’s getting better than it was.” The following quiet as Boba contemplates the information is interrupted by what he could only consider a screech that is cut short by Din with a quick, “hey!” The silence after from the other line makes Boba chuckle as he imagines the scandalized look that Din was receiving from the child for his own interruption.

“Fennec told me you had a son,” Boba admits. He leans back against the counter to take the weight off of his leg, not wanting to sit just yet after a day of sitting in the hard VA chairs. 

“Yeah, I...” Din pauses before continuing, “Yeah, I do.” His voice gentles as he admits to having a child. Boba has a feeling that the gentleness is directed more at the child than himself. “That won’t be a problem for you?”

“No,” Boba answers quickly before stopping to really think about it. He had never known much of the personal lives of those he had done scenes with before, just gave them a time to show up and made sure they understood and remembered his rules. It was generally impersonal and largely why he had stepped out of the scene as a professional dom. While Fennec thrived under the impersonal side of it, Boba had suffocated under it. “That’s not going to be a problem, no.”

The line is silent for a few breaths before Din quietly hums. “That’s good.”

Boba nods and shifts his weight to lean more comfortably against the counter. “I have a few more questions for you.”

“Oh?” 

“Mhm,” Boba looks to the timer briefly before giving in and pushing himself from the counter to settle into a more comfortable seat on the couch. “You still haven’t answered me about your work.” The reminder earns him a low groan and he’s almost positive that Din has dropped his head into his hand much as he had during their meeting the day before when Boba asked a question he didn’t want to answer to. The man had a terrible poker face that Boba was more than willing to use to his own advantage given the chance. “Want me to ask the other question instead, while you try to come up with a way to get out of answering this one for the third time?”

Din’s muffled, “you’re counting?” confirms that Din was likely burying his head in his hands as well as the fact that he was actively trying to avoid talking about his work schedule. 

“Of course, I am.” Boba grins and asks again, “Want that other question?”

“No.” Din huffs on the other line. “I don’t like your questions.”

Boba laughs at Din’s comment. “Then you’ll really hate them later on down the road.” He waits a moment for Din to choose to answer before pressing forward. “Alright, second question; how much sleep did you get?” The question earns him another groan. He waits in silence for a few breaths. “Din?”

“I’m counting,” Din grumbles at him. Boba thinks he is starting to understand why Fennec had directed the other man to him as he laughs at Din’s ire. “Five…hours?” 

“In total or at one time?” Boba chooses to ignore that Din’s answer had been a question.

“In total.” Din sighs before continuing, “After I called you by accident, I got in two hours before I had to get the kid up …then we took a three-hour nap. Five.”

“You’re still not going to answer my other question, are you?” There’s no hesitation in Din’s responding ‘no’, it makes him laugh again. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

Boba smiles, Din was catching on. “It could be seen as such.”

The teasing jab gets a laugh from Din. “I accept that, I suppose. I…the rules you had presented me with,” Din quickly changes subjects before pausing and Boba is reminded of the look Din got at the coffee shop as he thought out his words carefully the day before. “They are more directed to a lifestyle than just scenes. Was that on purpose?”

“Yes and no. I wanted to present you with a few rules that differentiated for you to form an opinion of them.” Boba reaches over to the coffee table in front of him to grab his laptop, powering it up to pull up the draft of the rules he had made. “When we meet up again, I wanted to go through them and create something that works for you.”

“I remember that.” Din’s voice trails and Boba can tell he has another question. Just as he is about to push, Din speaks up again, “We didn’t discuss yesterday how, exactly, this would be working.”

“You mean if we will be working through just scheduled scenes or something more personal?” It hadn’t crossed Boba’s mind that it would be something to discuss. All his previous encounters when he worked professionally were scheduled scenes only; he had paperwork that clearly marked out their limits and his rules were kept simple. His exchange with Din was already shades different than his meetings with clients. From the moment he was given Din’s contact with the simple message that he needed more than she could give him, he approached Din with a completely different mindset without realizing. 

Din makes a small noise that Boba takes to be one of agreement before Din follows it with a quiet, “yes.”

Boba taps his finger against the back of his phone, setting the computer to the side with the change of topic and weighing his options. “That is up to you. I don’t take clients anymore; I have the time to give you more than something scheduled and scripted.” It’s a lot, he knows, to give that choice over to Din. In the short time they had been talking, the few discussions they had had, he knows that Din struggled to make his needs and wants known but this wasn’t a choice that Boba wanted to make for him lest Din feel that he can’t make an opposing decision. “If you want to continue into something that is more personal, I can do that. If you want to change your mind later down the road, we can work on it and figure out what you need. But this isn’t a choice I can make for you.”

“What is it that you want?” The question is innocent enough, but Boba easily sees through it. He knows Din’s type, the ones who weighed their worth in someone else’s hands.

“I can’t tell you that, Din.” Boba gentles his voice. “I don’t want you to make a decision because of what you think will make me happy.”

The sigh that Din lets out is nearly imperceivable. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll think on that one.”

“That’s a good plan. I’m going to let you go, get some sleep tonight, and no emergencies at two in the morning.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be sure to schedule those for five next time.” The comment is sarcastic, a brief glimpse into who Din was beyond his bone-deep weariness and wired anxiety. 

“Send me a calendar reminder.” Boba’s pleased with the resulting laugh he gets and chuckles. “Have a good night, Din, and feed that child of yours.” He waits for Din’s echo of “goodnight” before he hangs up and sets the phone aside. Looking at the laptop still powered up beside him, Boba grabs it and opens the document he had built for Din, adding some notes to the page of rules to address with Din at a later time.


	5. Chapter 5

A solid smack to the face jerks Din from his sleep. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to intercept the second hand he knows is incoming, grabbing the tiny fist and pulling Grogu into a smothering hug that earns him a giggle. He knows he should reprimand the hitting and usually would, but Din can’t find it in him to reprimand the giggling toddler in his arms when most mornings started with whimpering cries from night terrors that the child couldn’t vocalize. Another burst of giggles escapes the boy as Din doesn’t let up from his hug, trapping him firmly against his chest. He opens his eyes just in time to put a hand between his head and the incoming head butt that his hug has earned him. 

“Don’t.” Din sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed to let Grogu down. “We don’t hit.” The reminder falls on deaf ears as Grogu is already tearing from the room at full speed to the living room. Din follows the child’s trail at a more sedate pace. The clock on the stove tells him it’s just past seven and he groans quietly, it had only been two hours since he’d gotten himself into bed. He’d been up late again finishing some work for Karga, work that he is quick to salvage from the coffee table and away from tiny grabbing hands. 

“I think we need to discuss this seven in the morning wake-up thing.” He receives no response, not that he expected one, and moves his office work to the safety of the kitchen table. Grogu is more than happy to follow Din into the kitchen, reaching for the things Din sets on the counter as he starts pulling out what he needs for breakfast. Din lets Grogu steal the spatula from his hand, grabbing the second one he had set aside for this purpose. 

Before Grogu can grab for the eggs Din passes him a wooden egg and directs him to his little kitchen set. “You work on breakfast in here, I’ll work on breakfast in there.” He watches him wander into the living room and waits to hear the sound of the spatula hitting something before he returns to his own task of cooking up scrambled eggs and toast for the both of them. 

The plate was barely on the table before Grogu was at his side, trying to climb onto the chair and struggling to pull his other leg up. Din chuckles at the sight and grabs the boy to sit him up in his chair. Din moves the plate closer and crouches down to be level with the boy, smiling when Grogu looks at him expectantly. Making a fist and sticking his pinky out, Din swoops the finger down to the left, asking at the same time, “juice?” He waits and then makes the sign again. Grogu watches him before looking down at his hand and then holding it to his cheek in an attempt to sign back at Din. 

“Almost got it.” Din smiles at the attempt and copies the sign, pressing his knuckle to his cheek and twisting it. “Apple?” He asks, getting a quick excited nod from Grogu. “Okay, apple juice.” He holds his hand up for a high-five before going to the kitchen for his own breakfast and a sippy cup of apple juice. The requested juice earns him an excited hum only after Grogu had the cup in hand. 

It’s nearly lunch by the time Peli came knocking on his door to whisk Grogu away. At one time, Din had worried about over-stepping his welcome, or Grogu’s, in Peli’s life but a firm dressing down from the woman had made it clear to him that she wasn’t doing this from some odd obligation. He remembers the first time she came to his door and held her hands out for him to pass Grogu over. Din had been more than happy to pass over the screaming baby in his arms, nearly to tears himself after trying for hours to console him. The woman and child had been nearly inseparable since. 

Once again childless, Din stands a moment at the door, leaning his forehead against the wood taking a moment to breathe. There was still more work to be completed for Karga. A stuffed toy dog squished under Grogu’s little shoes stared up at him from beside the door as if to remind him that there was actual cleaning that needed to get done as well. Din groans as he scrubs his hand over his face and straightens. There’s the start of a headache behind his eyes and he can’t help thinking of Boba’s questions about his work, feeling that the man may have had a point. 

The dishes get done, if only so he doesn’t have to experience Peli’s judgmental stare tonight. Din manages to get through a week’s worth of emails before it becomes too hard to focus on the text on the screen and he sends an email to one of the new hires to have them go through what he couldn’t finish and pull any documents from them. He hesitates a moment before sending Karga a message that he would not be coming in for the next few days. It was the same routine Karga, Cara, and himself had been working the past few months; work themselves until they can’t anymore and take a few days to recover before starting it all over again.

Din’s thirty minutes into using a stuffed frog of Grogu’s as a pillow on the couch in an attempt to nap before he thinks to message Boba too. He found that the man was easy to talk to and had yet to push for a decision on just how involved Din wanted him to be despite them talking on and off for the past few days. He had yet to push for anything really, only following up on questions Din presented him with but never in a way that Din felt was impatient or annoyed. It was almost refreshing to have someone to talk with that didn’t have him on a time limit. 

Making up his mind, he reaches for the phone he had tossed on the coffee table. He could call, Boba always answered when he did, even when it was much too early in the morning and he had clearly been sleeping. Din sends him a message instead, still trying to cling to the edges of sleep he had been chasing on the too-small space of the couch. He contemplates if he should include that he’s taken a few days off, unsure if Bob would assume that he took the time off because of him or if the man would question his work habits again. The trill of the text alert pulls Din from his tired contemplations, the message from Boba a request to call.

Knowing that his attempt at getting some rest was going nowhere, Din presses call and rolls to stretch out on his back, letting his feet fall to the floor instead of staying curled up. Boba’s voice is warm when he answers with the familiar, “Good evening, Din.”

“It’s hardly evening yet,” Din fires back, wincing at the sleep rough sound of his voice.

“I would ask if I woke you, but you messaged me first.”

Din bites back a yawn and pushes himself upright. “I wasn’t sleeping, was trying but-“ he trails off and shrugs. “I figured I’d let you know I had finished with those papers.”

“Trying to?” There’s the sound of movement and then, “you are usually at work at this time.”

“Usually. I’m taking a few days off.” Din admits.

Boba is quiet long enough that Din starts to wonder if the man had hung up. He finally speaks up just as Din is about to check. “You feeling okay?”

The question makes Din pause. “Yes?” Before Boba can ask if he’s sure, he continues with a soft sigh, “Yes. I just needed a few days to rest.” Boba’s low hum tells Din just how he feels about the situation even if he doesn’t voice it. Din has a feeling that Boba is only dropping the subject for the time being, much like he had with the work schedule conversation. “I’ve decided I don’t want just scheduled scenes.” 

“Hells, Din.” Boba laughs, “No segue into that one. Alright.” He laughs again, softer this time. “Are you free tomorrow to meet and go over things?”

The laugh he earned from his quick change of subject makes Din smile. “I’ll be available any time after noon tomorrow. Maybe..maybe somewhere more private this time?” He’s not sure if he has to have this conversation in another coffee shop that he won’t pass from embarrassment.

Boba makes a quiet noise of assent. “We can do that. Would you like to meet at your place or mine?” 

Din pauses only briefly to consider his options. “I think I would prefer your place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ask box is open for any requests that anyone may like to see in future chapters. My tumblr is brian-fuxing-may


	6. Chapter 6

There had been a light rain through out the day that had kept Boba inside, nursing old aches that flared up with the arrival of the storm clouds. Din, it seemed, had managed to get caught in the brief down pour, his dripping hair made more obvious by the fluorescent lights of the apartment hall. Despite being careful not to brush against him, Boba can still feel the damp and cold from Din's jacket as he passes him. He waves off Din's apologies for the wet footprints through his entrance. 

Din sets the packet on the arm of the couch before working his jacket off, careful to keep from dripping water everywhere. The consideration makes Boba smile and grabs the collar of the jacket to help remove it, hanging it on the back of the dining room chairs to dry. With Din's coat and shoes set aside, Boba directs him to the couch and quickly steps away to grab a small towel for Din's soaked hair. 

At the confused look he gets for the towel, Boba shrugs. "Your hair is soaked." 

Din is quick to take the towel at that, quickly taking it to his hair before it could continue to drip down the back of his neck. "Thank you. If I'd known the storm was going to pick up, I would have worn a better coat."

"One with a hood?" Boba grins at Din's attempt to scowl at him from under the towel. 

"Something thicker."

Boba chuckles and holds a hand out for Din to pass him the papers he had brought with him, pausing when he realizes that unlike Din the papers aren't soaked but instead were wrapped in a clear plastic. "A ziplock?"

"It kept them dry." Din motions with the towel. "It was between that or saran wrap. Where do you want me to put this?" 

"First door on the left, just drop it in the hamper." Boba nods his head toward the hall, watching Din briefly before turning his attention back to the plastic wrapped papers. "A grocery bag could have worked."

Din's only response to that is a soft huff but Boba knows he’s been forgiven as Din settles back onto the couch, close enough now for their knees to brush. He drops a hand to Din's knee in acknowledgement and gives a soft squeeze before settling back to read Din's neat notations.

The rules he had included for Din to look over was the only page lacking any real notations, a strikethrough through a few bullets to annotate what he didn’t like but otherwise a blank page. It’s the rules that Din chose not to cross off that catch Boba’s attention. 

“I keep only a few rules, easier to remember and easier to obey.” Boba shifts to be able to face Din, motioning to the papers now resting in his lap. “The ones you’ve left, that is what you are looking for?” He pauses before changing his line of questioning. “Are any of these rules that you want?”

That gets him a response, a flush high on Din’s cheeks giving him away before he slowly nods. “There’s two?” He meets Boba’s gaze only briefly before focusing back on the paper in Boba’s lap. Boba doesn’t have to press before Din continues, “saying ‘thank you’ for rewards and punishments-”

“So polite,” he teases, curious now as to just how far down that embarrassed flush went. "And the other?" 

"Ah...no touching without permission," Din pauses. "Myself," he quickly amends as Boba's gaze flickers from Din to the page in his lap and back, "no touching..myself without permission."

Boba smiles with the correction and nods. "I think we can work with those." He grabs his laptop from the coffee table. "I have a few of my own to add to that...one of which I'm sure we'll have to work on but," he hums, "we'll work on that when we get there. My rules are simple and you are allowed to voice you're own opinion." He pauses to make sure Din is listening, continuing only when he gets a nod as Din watches him again. "First, if you want to stop or my directions are unclear, tell me, ask me. Two, no negative self-talk." This earns him a sour look as Din began to realize where Boba was going, "three, care for your health, this means remembering to sleep and eat." Din narrows his eyes and Boba levels him with a challenging look.

"Did you decide on that one before or after the two a.m. phone call?"

The question makes Boba chuckle. "That same night, after I left you to decide how involved you wanted this to be."

Din tilts his head. "Did you already know what I was going to decide?"

"I had an idea and made a note of it in case I was right." Boba smiles at Din's snort. "Problem?"

He gets a pointed look in response before Din deflates and shakes his head. "I kind of figured you would have something to say about my schedule after all of the questioning."

"You can't run on empty." Boba taps his fingers on the shell of the laptop before reaching out to brush his knuckles under Din's chin to get him to meet his eyes. "When you are with me, you are mine." He brushes his knuckles under Din's chin once more before grasping it, keeping his focus on him. "I do not like my property to be mistreated and you will treat yourself with respect." The warm flush returns to Din's face once more and Boba gives in, cupping Din's jaw to swipe his thumb across the warm skin. "Am I understood?"

He doesn't need to ask. He could see the effect of his words clearly in Din's face. Din nods slowly, swallowing thickly when Boba doesn't pull away. "Understood."

Boba hums and brushes his thumb along Din's cheek again before letting his hand fall. "You're okay?"

Din's response of "yes" comes quickly. He seems to take a moment to reconsider before nodding. "No..yes, I'm okay."

"Are you reassuring you or me?" Boba asks, unable to help worrying that he may have overstepped calling Din his the way he had but his worries are momentarily quelled with Din's soft smile. The reassurance had been for his benefit then. 

Din nudges Boba's foot with his own. "Whats next on your agenda?"

The question pulls Boba from his musings and he makes a quiet sound to let Din know he'd been heard. "A few things." Boba taps his fingers lightly, debating the next point of discussion. "Safe words first," he looks to Din, "then I have a request for you."

This seems to catch Din's attention and he raises a brow with a soft "oh?"

"Safe words first." Boba reminds, jostling him lightly with his knee before settling, prepared to wait for Din's answer. 

"Fennec introduced me to the color system," Din admits, "I found that to be easier than trying to remember a specific word."

"Red, yellow, green?" Boba asks instead of what he really wanted to ask, something in the way Din spoke had him wondering about Din's experiences outside of their mutual circle.

Din gives a quick affirmative nod, "that's the one."

Boba catches Din's curious look before the man can attempt to hide it. "There's more that I want to talk about but I think that, if you are open to it, we could both benefit from a different head space." He can see the moment that Din starts to understand his meaning and continues, "I would like you to kneel."

**Author's Note:**

> Come join me in crying over Boba and Din on tumblr at brian-fuxing-may.


End file.
